


to the victor go the spoils

by Eighttails



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Married Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, ferdie i am so sorry, improper use of Crest strength, maybe a hint a crack?, no beta we die like Glenn, post CF, post TWSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eighttails/pseuds/Eighttails
Summary: On the night of the celebratory feast commemorating the Empire's victory over Those Who Slither in the Dark, Edelgard decides she'd prefer to celebrate in her own way.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	to the victor go the spoils

**Author's Note:**

> Not to be horny on main, but............. here we are again. It's a quickie this time. 
> 
> Thank you, Frosty, as always, for pouring gasoline on the fire that is my passion for this ship.

It was finally over. The war against Those Who Slither in the Dark was won.

For years, Edelgard had dreamed of the day that Those Who Slither would be reduced to nothing. While she had never been a vengeful woman, Edelgard had to admit she felt cheated that she wasn’t able to give Thales a taste of Amyr’s wicked spikes. He always had to have the last word. Though it was comforting to know that she would never have to see him wearing her uncle’s face again, his death wouldn’t bring back her siblings. Edelgard had long since abandoned the idea that killing him would satisfy the ghosts of her family. No, his death wouldn’t do anything for the dead, but now, no more children would be tortured for his cruel experiments. It was as if a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. While there was much to be done regarding the civilians they’d evacuated in the underground city of Shambhala, Edelgard had given Thales enough thought for the last time. High on the thrill of victory, she turned her attention to the feast before her.

Rows of wooden tables lined the center of the palace’s great hall with platters of the best food the imperial coffers could reasonably afford after the war. It wasn’t nearly as grand as the feasts of her childhood, but the menu was still impressive. Roasted pigs and pheasants made up the bulk of the luxury meats, though a few large sides of beast meat went a long way (with enough seasoning and preparation, the cooks had assured her it would taste like chicken). Empire favorites such as fish dango, two-fish sauté, and fruit and herring tarts were present as well. This occasion also called for opening the last casks of wine in the cellars, so that the small army she’d led on the mission could celebrate properly. Edelgard, of course, had treated herself to the dessert table, which was overflowing with fine fruits and pastries, chief among them dishes of saghert and cream. The imperial bakers had known about her sweet tooth since her youth, and they never disappointed her. The flaky pastry and delicate currant cream were the perfect combination.

Even after days of travel, Edelgard was restless. It made sense, she supposed, since she’d been yearning for _that_ day ever since she crawled out of the palace dungeons. In fact, it still didn’t feel quite real. She’d expected that, at some point during the feast, it would truly sink in — but when she’d sat down after delivering her victory speech, she was still restless. Her soldiers were happy enough to gorge themselves on wine to forget the weapons of mass destruction they’d faced, taking to the dance floor to revel in their success. The Black Eagle Strike Force wasgathered at the emperor’s table, commemorating their final mission together.

“Edie, have some more wine! You seem tense.” Dorothea draped herself across Edelgard’s shoulders, clearly drunk. Maybe she was right, intoxicated as she was. Edelgard took another sip of her wine; only her second cup of the night.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“Of course I am! Can you believe it? We’re finally done fighting! Oh, you’re going to make me cry!”

“How do you still have energy to cry?” Linhardt drawled from a few seats down. It was a miracle he was even awake, since he’d stumbled upon fragments of Agarthan Crest research in the ruins of Shambhala and hadn’t put the burnt scraps of parchment down during their march back to Enbarr. Lysithea sat next to him, looking frighteningly gaunt, but the hope in her eyes was unmistakable.

“If you are having trouble staying awake, I can have some coffee brewed for you.” Hubert cut in from his “station,” where Bernadetta hid under the table. They were only able to get her to attend the feast if Hubert promised to ward off anyone who might hurt her (and on the condition that he not give her a “mean” look).

Linhardt stifled a yawn. “No, no that won’t be necessary. Lysithea is doing a good enough job keeping me awake with her questions.”

“Excuse me, but I wasn’t allowed to come with you to this Shambhala place! I’d have done the research myself if,” Sick as she was, Lysithea’s sharp attitude prevailed.

“I only meant that our conversation is interesting enough to…”

“Don’t fall asleep!”

Edelgard smiled fondly as she watched her friends bicker. It spoke volumes of the bright future to come.

So why couldn’t Edelgard settle down?

It hadn’t been the brilliant tactical victory she’d planned. Thales had done most of the work himself, destroying the city once he realized he was cornered and forcing Edelgard to call a retreat. The battles the Empire had won during the war against the Church had been more worthy of historical texts than this one.

But she’d won.

So why wouldn’t her heart stop thumping in her chest?

She’d won.

Why wouldn’t the almost hysterical sense of ecstasy ebb away?

She’d _won._

Why was she incredibly, achingly aroused?

Edelgard stood up, suddenly acutely aware of just how wet she’d become. She barely heard Dorothea asking after her as she located her empress. Every part of her was buzzing with excitement.

She found Byleth at the other end of the table. Apparently, her wife had abandoned her seat at Edelgard’s right side to arm wrestle with Caspar and Petra. Ferdinand stood between them, heavily intoxicated, seeing to it that their matches were fair. She watched as Byleth strained against Petra, biceps bulging until she finally overpowered the trained assassin. The sight of her beloved winning such a silly contest stirred the heat in Edelgard’s belly.

“Empress Byleth takes the win!” Ferdinand declared loudly.

“It is an honor to be losing to you.” Petra slurred.

“That was a tough one.” Byleth said.

Edelgard put a hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “That was very impressive, my love. Would you please come with me?”

“Of course.” Byleth rose from her seat, and Edelgard led her away, all but dragging her along. Caspar raged behind them, wanting to go up against the victor of the previous match. Unfortunately, he would have to wait his turn.

“What’s going on, El? Is something wrong?”

“I need you. Inside me or not — I don’t care which way — _right now_.” Edelgard didn’t need to look behind her to see the smile spreading on Byleth’s face.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They barely made it out of the great hall when Edelgard whipped around and crushed her lips to Byleth’s, her hands searching to make any contact with her wife. In turn, Byleth pulled the two of them off to one shadowy corridor in a bid for privacy, pressing Edelgard against a wall. Her hands went to work rucking up Edelgard’s skirts — she was inwardly grateful she had changed out of her armor for the feast. One sharp pull, and Byleth tore her underwear clean off.

One of Byleth’s strong thighs was planted between Edelgard’s legs. “How do you want it?” Byleth shifted, adding pressure right where it was needed.

“Just like this,” Edelgard gasped into her wife’s ear, grinding desperately against her.

“You gonna ride my thigh?” Byleth’s voice was low and very smug. “I like it when you get all hot and bothered after a win.” She nipped at Edelgard’s lips.

The overwhelming feelings that raged inside of her were quelled at least temporarily as Edelgard ground wetly on her wife’s leg, surely soiling the patterned stocking she wore. Byleth seemed content to let her control the pace; she busied herself with undoing all the buttons on Edelgard’s collar and ravishing the skin she revealed. The din of the feast echoed around them, hopefully masking the noises they made. The last thing Edelgard needed was one of her closest friends catching her in the act of rutting against her wife like it was her last day alive.

After one especially firm pass that provided just the right amount of friction, Edelgard jerked forward, gripping Byleth’s shoulders for support.

“Come for me, El.” Byleth gave her a nudge, sending shivers down her spine. Another open-mouthed kiss to her neck and the feeling of Byleth’s hands caressing her sides spurred her to go harder, faster.

Edelgard’s vision swam as her orgasm took her, more powerful than normal. Maybe it was the rush of victory. Or maybe it was the threat of getting caught. Either way, she was left panting, rolling her hips to coast on the high of her climax. Even after that, the tension in her body remained. She wouldn’t be the only one benefitting from this thrill tonight. Edelgard slid her hands down Byleth’s body to tug at her pants.

“Not that I’m complaining, but shouldn’t we get back to the others?” Byleth asked, kicking the article of clothes to the side.

“We will.” Edelgard said curtly. She pulled Byleth’s underwear down to her ankles and before her wife could dispose of them properly, Edelgard picked her up so that her legs were around her shoulders and pressed her against wall, using the strength surging from her Crests.

Byleth was dumbstruck, unused to this type of boldness. She let out a low groan as Edelgard’s mouth made contact with her cunt, practically dripping from earlier. “ _Fuck._ ” The heady scent of her beloved’s arousal stoked Edelgard’s desire. Only she had the ability to catch Byleth unaware like this.

The sound of approaching footsteps wasn’t enough to make her stop. At this point, Edelgard didn’t care if anyone saw her devouring her wife. It was her palace, after all. Besides, no one would be able to see properly since her head was currently blocking Byleth’s crotch. To her credit, Byleth kept her vocalizations to a minimum; she let out short, frantic breaths as Edelgard continued her assault. She felt a tugging sensation — Byleth gripping the gilded horns on her crown — and smiled to herself. The footsteps faded away. They hadn’t been found out. With that little distraction gone, it was time to push her wife over the edge. Byleth’s clit was peeking out of its hood, stiff and begging for Edelgard’s attention. When she took it between her lips, Byleth’s legs clamped ever tighter around her neck and it felt as though she might rip her crown off entirely. Never one to back down, Edelgard held firm and suckled and laved at her wife’s engorged clit until Byleth came, letting out a low noise of relief.

Edelgard set Byleth down on wobbly legs and went about finding her lover’s pants. Once Byleth was properly clothed, she reached into her coat and produced a silk handkerchief. “Here, El.”

“Thank you.” Edelgard took the cloth and dabbed at her face, slick with a mixture of Byleth’s fluids and her own saliva. “What is it? Did I miss a spot?” She asked worriedly when she caught her wife snickering at her.

Byleth shook her head. “No, no. It’s your hair.” She reached out and prodded at Edelgard’s twin buns, wrested free from their tight configuration. “I think I may have been a little rough.”

“It’s completely unsalvageable, isn’t it?” Edelgard touched her crown, which was now loose on her head. Although, without it digging into her scalp, her head felt much better.

“By your standards, yes.”

“I can’t return to the feast looking like this.”

“No, that would be most improper.” Byleth said, doing an impression of Ferdinand. “And then there’s this.” She gestured to the very prominent wet spot on her leggings. The sight of it was enough to make Edelgard want to take her pleasure like that all over again.

“Indeed. I think the best course of action is to… _retire_ early.”

They scurried through the corridor, giggling all the way. Their path took them back towards the great hall, where a tall, familiar, and very sinister figure stood by the entrance.

“Ah, there you are, Your Majesties.” Hubert said. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.” He looked at them for a long while and though his expression didn’t change, he knew. “I take it the Prime Minister and I will be taking over as hosts?”

“Yes, thank you.” They replied in unison, and continued on their way back to the emperor’s chambers.

________________________________________________________________________

Morning came, and with it, breakfast. It was a much more intimate affair than the previous night. The Black Eagle Strike Force gathered in the emperor’s private dining room to have fruits and cheese and bread along with whatever sausages the kitchens could spare and leftover pastries from the feast. Some of the Eagles, though, were feeling the consequences of their revelry.

“I can’t even look at all that food.” Dorothea moaned as she slumped onto the table.

“How much did you drink last night?” Edelgard asked.

“Probably an entire barrel.” Her friend replied miserably. It was just as well. If Dorothea had been able to remember everything, she might start asking questions.

As it turned out, it wasn’t Dorothea she needed to worry about.

“Byleth!” Caspar shouted. Every hungover person in the room moaned in agony. “You owe me an arm wrestling match after running off last night! Right, Ferdinand?”

The noblest of nobles choked on his breakfast tea. A blush spread across his cheeks, and he stared at his napkin as though it was the most intricate piece of art in the world. “Y-yes. That is correct. You are entitled to a match.” Hubert wouldn’t have told him _why_ the monarchs of Fódlan abandoned the feast, but Ferdinand wasn’t stupid, and it wasn’t the first time he’d had to cover for their unexpected absence.

All eyes were on Edelgard and Byleth. Lysithea made a noise of disgust from across the table.

“What?” Caspar looked around. “Did I say something weird?”

“Not at all.” Byleth said smoothly. “I’m ready when you are.” That seemed to be enough to get the others to let the matter go.

Edelgard was about to let out a sigh of relief when Dorothea spoke, “So you ran off last night did you?”

It was a rare occasion for Edelgard to curse. She found it crude, and curse words very rarely conveyed the emotions she wanted to express. But there were situations that called for such language, when all other words failed.

“Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know Edelgard gets horny when she's victorious. I know it in my heart. And Bernadetta is under the table collecting information for her next novel. I know it and no one can convince me otherwise.


End file.
